


The List

by riventhorn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-08
Updated: 2010-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saving Arthur's life often leaves Merlin scraped, battered, and bruised--and hiding that from Arthur can be a challenge.</p><p>Written for fuzzytomato02</p>
            </blockquote>





	The List

Merlin quickly had realized that hiding his magic from Arthur also meant hiding the various scrapes, bruises, and other injuries he sustained while saving Arthur’s life. Saving Arthur’s life was an activity that seemed to be occurring with alarming frequency—one evening when Merlin was feeling particularly put-upon, he had started a list which began: 1. Evil Witch with dagger and poor taste in music. It proceeded through: 2. Valiant—evil knight plus poisonous snakes; 3. Nimueh—evil sorceress plus cockatrice and monster spiders; 3. Gryphon—beak, talons, not to mention the impervious magical feathers; and 4. Edwin—mad sorcerer who would have gotten round to Arthur eventually if I hadn’t stopped him. The most recent addition to the list was: 5. Evil Sidhe—enchantments plus drowning. Merlin had memorized The List (which he planned on triumphantly revealing to Arthur when the time was right) but was beginning to wonder if he would live past number ten (and there was sure to be a number ten—Merlin was gloomily certain that Arthur would continue attracting trouble and getting into scrapes, and he would have to continue coming up with ingenious ways to save him).

Actually, considering all that had happened, he had come through surprisingly unscathed. Yes, there was a nasty moment with the gryphon, and he wasn’t likely to forget that axe hurtling at him through the air anytime soon, but none of those had actually _hurt_ him. And all right, he had almost died from the poisoned goblet, but Arthur had known about that, so he hadn’t had to hide how weak he had felt afterwards, and Arthur had been quite nice about it, really—letting Merlin take afternoons off and actually lugging his own chainmail up and down the stairs (that lasted all of a day, but Merlin appreciated the gesture nonetheless).

But getting slammed into a stone wall by an angry Sidhe using a powerful magical spell had left Merlin bruised, scraped, and sore. And this time, he couldn’t let Arthur know. It might lead to all sorts of awkward questions. Arthur was embarrassed enough about the whole incident that he hadn’t referred to it at all, and Merlin wanted to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, being embarrassed had also made Arthur more irritable and demanding than usual. He kept giving Merlin hundreds of chores to do—everything from washing his bed curtains to scrubbing the floor to brushing the boar’s head that decorated Arthur’s wall—the last a distasteful and vaguely creepy task to say the least. And if Merlin didn’t do it quickly enough, Arthur snapped at him and gave him even more to do. There seemed to be some residual effects from the spell, too, that left him more tired than usual. All Merlin wanted was to go curl up in his bed and rest his aching body. But no—he had to slave away for Arthur with no respite in sight.

The first day wasn’t bad, but by the second, his muscles were stiff and sore, and he could barely move. He could feel the beginnings of a headache, too. Morosely, Merlin contemplated the pile of armor in front of him. Couldn’t Arthur skip training for just a day? Perhaps he could summon a rainstorm that would keep Arthur inside for the afternoon. Merlin contemplated the thought of an antsy, irritable Arthur prowling about the castle and quickly picked up his rag. Best not to meddle with the weather—Gaius would lecture him all evening. In his haste, he knocked Arthur’s gauntlets off the table and under Arthur’s heavy chair. He had to get on his knees to fish them out and couldn’t help the little whimper of pain when he tried to stand. Clutching the side of the chair, he tried to straighten slowly, wondering if he would have to spend the rest of his life hunched over like a cripple.

“What is the matter with you, Merlin?”

Merlin turned too fast and another little cry escaped him. Arthur had just come in and was standing by the door, frowning.

“Nothing,” Merlin said, trying to straighten up.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “It’s taking you even longer than usual to do your chores. So it obviously isn’t ‘nothing.’” He walked over and took Merlin by the shoulders, turning him around. “You look like one of my knights after a particularly brutal round with the poleaxes. Lift up your shirt.”

“No,” Merlin said, trying to escape, but Arthur tightened his grip.

“ _Merlin_.”

Scowling, Merlin grabbed the hem of his tunic. He managed to lift it a little before his shoulders protested, and he froze, drawing in a sharp breath. Cool fingers brushed his skin, running over his ribs, then up his back. He could hear Arthur moving around him.

“Who did this, Merlin?” Arthur asked in a low voice.

“Aulfric.” Merlin hesitated, and then went on, “When I came after you—Aulfric got angry. He shoved me up against a tree and hit me with that staff he carried.”

Arthur was silent. “I don’t remember any of that,” he finally murmured. Another pause, and then he shoved Merlin towards the bed. “Take off your tunic and lie down.”

“Um, what?” Merlin asked, trying to untangle his arms and get a proper look at Arthur.

Arthur tugged at Merlin’s tunic, and they finally extracted it from Merlin’s limbs, leaving him shivering in the chilly air. “Lie down on the bed,” Arthur repeated, going over to a cabinet. “I’m going to rub some salve on those bruises. You should have asked Gaius to do it.”

“I can go ask him now,” Merlin said, feeling unaccountably nervous.

“He’s off on his rounds at this time of day,” Arthur replied, pulling out a jar. “I don’t want you loitering about here all afternoon because you’re too sore to move.”

“I’m not loitering, and I _can_ move,” Merlin protested, but he crawled onto Arthur’s bed, lying down on his stomach.

When Arthur’s hands settled on his shoulders, he flinched a little. Arthur waited, not moving, until Merlin relaxed again, then began massaging the salve into his back.

“Ow!” Merlin jerked away. “That hurts!”

“It will get better in a minute,” Arthur said. “Now lie still.”

Arthur was (of course) right, and after a minute the pain began to diminish. Merlin sighed and pressed his face into the pillows. Arthur’s bed really was wonderfully soft. On his second day as Arthur’s servant, he had given in to temptation and bounced on the bed, one wary eye on the door, but he had never actually lain in it.

“I think you should give me a bed like this for my birthday,” he murmured.

“Oh, yes?” Arthur sounded amused. “I don’t think it would fit through your door.”

“It could be a miniature.” Merlin sighed again, relaxing further as Arthur’s calloused fingers pressed against his skin, seeking out the aches and smoothing them away.

“But then you wouldn’t fit in it.”

Merlin yawned. “I guess not.”

They fell silent, and Merlin’s eyes closed. Lassitude crept over him, warm and beguiling, and he yawned again. Perhaps princes were good for some things after all.

He dimly felt Arthur ruffle his hair an indeterminate amount of time later. Arthur’s weight left the bed, but Merlin couldn’t summon the energy to move. When he finally did crack open an eye, Arthur was gone—as was the pile of armor that had been sitting on the table. Taking this as permission to remain where he was, Merlin closed his eyes again. He wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be lazy for a few hours. After all, it was only a matter of time before he would be chasing off after the latest threat to Arthur’s life and adding yet a new item to The List. Although, Merlin decided just before he dozed off, it was much better to have a List and Arthur than no Arthur and no List.


End file.
